


Working Relationship

by kinkshamingismykink



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Sloppy Makeouts, Swearing, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-01-01 02:06:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12146307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkshamingismykink/pseuds/kinkshamingismykink
Summary: You and Trevor had been friends - good friends - for a while when he finally said the phrase you always dreaded hearing. After a week of distant pining, you're unsure if things will ever be the same again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> renegadenightmare on tumblr asked: Yo, how do you feel about writing about Treyco? If you're into that, maybe a reader insert where the reader's not really very girly and wears jeans and t shirts all the time and doesn't wear makeup and thinks that trevor won't like her because she thinks she's plain but he likes her anyway? And then they makeout and stuff? That'd be tippity toppers.
> 
> Lemme tell you, I loved every second of this. Thank you so much for the prompt!

It had already been one of _those_ days. You had slept through your alarm, jumped in the shower, and made it to work in fifteen minutes flat. It was raining, the humidity making your drying hair even more unruly than usual. You pulled it into a haphazard bun as you nudged open the door to the Achievement Hunter office, sighing only a bit too loudly as it swung shut behind you. The room was a mess, as always, but you didn’t mind. You were here to set up while most of the guys were on the podcast, checking cameras and microphones, making sure things would work smoothly. You booted up 7 Days to Die just before you left; Trevor had told you, once, that it was a nice touch. They could come back to a fully set up station, sit down, and get right into things. He had joked with you, telling you that no one did your job as well as you did, knocking you playfully on the shoulder. He hadn’t known how much that had meant to you.

Trevor had been around longer than you, but not by much. You had taken a liking to him almost immediately, becoming fast friends; you were always at each other’s apartments, playing games or just goofing off. You had become known for your mastery over the art of pranking, which he admired. You had begun to feel a different way about him too, something entirely less friendly, something more… fond? You sigh as you think on it, picking up a few stray boxes and returning them to the pile of mail in the corner of the room. It didn’t matter, not really. He had said the phrase you had always dreaded hearing, but somehow never seemed to escape.

“You’re one of the guys, now!”

He had said it a week ago in the office you stood in now, as you tossed bouncy balls at him while joking about how bad at Gorn he was. You felt crushed before you even realized that you had _had_ a crush, which was odd. Normally the soul-shattering feeling of romantic disappointment was at least somewhat expected. This time, however, it had not been; he had snuck up on you. Somewhere between the late nights, long hours, burnt coffee, and technical difficulties, you had actually managed to fall in love with him. You scoffed bitterly at yourself, pushing down the familiar lump in your throat. It had always been this way. You were plain, your mother used to say, as she pushed yet another dress you would never wear into your closet. You could be prettier, your friends had said, as they covered your face in creams and colors until you didn’t feel like yourself anymore. You had held tight to your jeans, your tee shirts, your unruly hair and unmade face all through high school. You’d had a date here and there, but nothing ever stuck. By now, you chastised yourself, you ought to be resigned to it. Things had been odd between you two since then; you tried to avoid him, and he didn’t go out of his way to find you, either.

You jumped as the door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud bang. The man you _didn’t_ want to see walked through on those long legs, arms full of packages that teetered precariously with each step he took. “Jesus, Trevor,” you admonished, taking some of the loose boxes, “Don’t you know that 90% of these probably have weapons in them?”

He smirked at you around his armload, shifting packages to do so. His smile made your heart ache. “Thanks,” he said, nodding to the small cardboard tower you now held. You smiled back in response, moving to put the boxes down where the others sat. “I didn’t wanna make two trips.”

“Gotcha.” You fell into a thankfully comfortable silence as he began picking up, and you finished the last station. After about ten minutes, you stood up straight, clapping your hands together. “I… think I’m done here,” you said, tucking an errant curl behind your ear. You turned to see Trevor already looking at you, smiling absently. He pulled his eyes from you as he realized that he had been caught, clearing his throat and shuffling a few papers on his desk.

“You look nice today,” he said casually, eyes still downcast. You smiled in spite of yourself, knowing this would only make you more upset later on.

“Puh- _lease,”_ you tried, pulling out your bun, “I woke up late and practically ran here. My hair's a mess, I wore these jeans yesterday, and this is _your_ shirt,” you finished, deciding on a high ponytail instead of the bun, hoping it would corral your hair for a bit longer.

“I thought it looked familiar,” he said, eyeing it. “You should keep it. Looks good on you.”

You felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. “Thanks,” was all you managed to choke out. At least your voice sounded normal.

“Sure.”

You turned to leave, feet feeling heavier than they had previously. You had a job to do, and plenty of other things to go over. You had a stack of papers on your desk about a foot high that needed sorting and filing. “I’ll catch you la-”

“Hey,” Trevor spoke over you, quieting sheepishly as you turned back to him. When you didn’t go on, only crossed your arms and looked at him, he continued. “You missed some hair,” he said, waving his hands around his head. You smiled at the gesture, feeling for what he had seen. Sure enough, you had missed a whole chunk of hair at the base of your neck. You sighed, pulling it out again, only for your elastic to snap.

“For fuck’s sake,” you sighed, holding up the broken band.

“Hold on. Lindsay’s always got extra elastics, I just… don’t know where.”

Lindsay’s desk was a cluttered mess. You both looked at it for a moment before Trevor moved to it, pushing papers aside. You joined him after a moment’s hesitation, gingerly moving cat figurines and fan mail as you searched. His hand passed over yours as he moved a small stack of unopened envelopes, making you freeze for a second, cursing yourself even as it happened. He either had not noticed or chose to ignore it, which was a small miracle. You went on to pick up yet another piece of paper when you saw not one, but _two_ whole elastics. “Hey!” Trevor smiled, snatching one up, “We did it!”

“Woo!” you returned, taking it from his outstretched hand. “Now I can take care of this rat’s nest.”

“It’s not a rat’s nest,” Trevor argued, stepping closer to you as you remade your ponytail. “I like your hair.”

You shot him a look, trying to keep it light. “My mop, you mean?”

“I think it fits you perfectly.”

“You callin’ me a mess, Collins?”

“No, but I am calling you pretty.”

You were both silent as the sentence echoed between you. Trevor, for his part, seemed just as surprised to have said it as you did at hearing it. You were sure you looked like an idiot; eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, unspeaking. You blinked, closing your mouth and forcing a smile. You hoped it would prove convincing. “Suck up,” you chuckled, “Don’t you have work to do?”

He ignored your question completely. You watched as he heaved a dramatic sigh and mumbled something to himself; it sounded oddly like he had said _isweartogodjeremyifyouliedtomeiwill_ \- before you lost the end of it. You looked at him in confusion before he cleared his throat once again. “I mean that, though. I’m not just saying it to suck up to you.”

“Right.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s - it’s not that, I just - I think you’re being nice, and I appreciate it, but-”

“I love your hair becau-.”

“It’s so unr-”

“I love your hair because it always falls out,” he spat, and you were silent. “And you’re always mad about it, but you look so cute when you take it out and just put it back up again. I love that you’re so easy going, I love that you ran here today in the rain and I love that you wore _my_ shirt on your bad day. I love the jeans you wore yesterday and I love knowing that I _might,_ just maybe, bump into you at some point everyday, because it’s my favorite time of the day, every single time. I think you’re pretty. And I think you’re _more_ than pretty. I think you’re in- _fucking_ -credible, and I feel like an idiot for waiting so long to tell you.”

You weren’t sure where it came from, but as soon as he stopped talking, you leaned up on your toes and pressed your lips to his. His arms were around you immediately, holding you to him. The back of your knees pressed against Lindsay’s desk, making you uneven on your feet. He adjusted as your ass hit the desktop, your legs wrapping around him as he tugged out your hair. You laughed as your head fell back, his lips on your neck, hands running through the hair you had hated your whole life like he _needed_ to. You pressed your hands to either side of his face as he moved from your neck, pulling him back to you. His tongue swiped tentatively at your lower lip, asking permission, which you quickly granted. You draped your arms around his shoulders as he deepened the kiss, exploring your mouth, one of his hands leaving your hair to travel the expanse of your torso. He left a trail of fire in his wake, igniting you both with reckless abandon. Your hands fell from his shoulders and slid under his shirt, nails pressed delicately into his skin as you dragged them downward. He shivered against you, earning him a muffled moan from your throat. You could feel him smiling into your mouth.

You both jumped and quickly pulled apart as the door banged open again, the rest of the Achievement Hunters making their way in from the podcast. Michael and Alfredo were in first, speaking animatedly. Michael stopped as he looked your way, shooting a confused look between you and Trevor. Jeremy and Ryan were next, but it was the former that started the racket: Jeremy took one look at you both fixing your hair, straightening your clothing out, and made a high pitched _aaaaaah_ noise that seemed to be enough to clue in the rest of the crew.

“On _my wife’s desk,_ you sick fucks?” Michael burst out, smirking all the while.

“I’m just glad it finally happened,” Ryan said, already reaching for a diet coke from the mini fridge. Jack, who had just walked in, scoffed loudly in agreement.

“On _Lindsay’s_ desk?!” Michael continued, Geoff and Gavin entering, looking confused. Michael noticed right away. “Our boss and everyone’s favorite IT person were banging on Lindsay’s desk!” Geoff and Gavin only turned to you and Trevor; you could feel how red your face was, but that didn’t stop you from firing back.

“We were not _banging,”_ you stated loudly, “But it was still more than _you’ve_ done on this desk in a long time, Michael.” The chorus of _ooh_ ’s that followed were enough for you. You turned back to Trevor, who was already smiling that crooked smile at you. Your heart didn’t ache this time, only sped up. “See you later?” you asked hopefully.

“Absolutely,” Trevor returned, leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead as he pushed that errant curl behind your ear - just where you liked it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Later" has arrived. No one is as nervous as you are to see where this is going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone requested some Treyco smut be added to this fic and here we are! I hope you enjoy.

Later, as it turned out, proved to come entirely too slow. You cursed the ticking wall clock that hung stoically by your desk with each passing second. By the time you could leave without counting the day as a total loss - you had been entirely distracted for the majority of the day - you were almost as giddy as you were irritated for having waited so long. You were actually glad that you had run to work. The walk back gave you time to cool off, to think a bit as you weaved through the other commuters leaving their own jobs perhaps a bit too early. You had kissed Trevor. Trevor had kissed you back. You were going home to wait for him to show up. You told each other it was to talk; you needed to _ talk _ about this, you needed to figure out what  _ this _ even was. A part of you was so glad that you had both had the presence of mind to recognize the reality of a relationship in the workplace, how complicated they could become. Another part had fizzled a bit - had he not felt the electric buzz his hands had sent through you? Had he not ached miserably as you two pulled apart? You sighed as you reached for the keys to your apartment, pushing the door open to begin cleaning up a bit before Trevor’s eventual arrival. The door clicked shut behind you with a dull thud, and you began picking up stray sweatshirts and dirty dishes. After ten minutes, the place didn’t look half bad. You had the dishwasher running and a load of laundry going: not too shabby. You check the clock: 7:17. An hour had passed?

He didn’t knock. Why would he? He’d been here hundreds of times. He had your spare key, for fuck’s sake. He'd watched the place for you for a week when you had gone home for the holidays. You had no reason to think he _would_ knock. That didn’t stop you from jumping as the door pressed open, revealing the man of the hour. Trevor stood in the door frame for a moment, smirking at you as you placed a hand over your heart and shot him a look. He looked around for a second with a raised brow before moving towards you in a few steps. “Since when do you clean for me?” he asked, leaning down and pressing a light kiss to your forehead. You could feel yourself coloring; the scent of his cologne made your heart skip a beat or two. He pretended not to notice you pulling your lower lip between your teeth, taking a step back.  _ Talk first, _ you reminded yourself.  _ Talk. _ Words didn’t seem to come. Instead you motioned for one of the two stools at the island. He took one and you took the other, crossing your arms and leaning into the wicker backing. You were still struck silent. He seemed to realize this; thankfully, he spoke first, breaking the tension that had mounted.

“So,” he said, smiling brightly, “We kissed. In the office.”

“We did.”

“And a lot of people know now,” he added, leaning his chin on his open palm, elbow on the counter top.

“I get the feeling they knew it was coming,” you state, point blank. He scoffs, nodding.

“Fair enough. I’m not complaining.” It’s quiet for another second before you shrug and his eyes are on you and - oh god you’re heating up, his eyes are on you and they’re practically  _ smoldering  _ as he waits for you to say something.  _ Say something _ , you urge yourself.

“I just - what are we doing, here? I mean, what do you want to call this?” you ask, watching his face go from amused to pensive, amazed that you recognize the change so quickly. You’re fucked, you know it even as you continue on. “I’m a big girl, I can handle it if you don’t want anything serious.” You couldn’t handle that. You know you couldn’t handle that. Why did you say that?

He smiles softly, and for a second, you’re sure he’s going to kiss you again. You certainly want him to. The moment passes in a beat as he seems to regain composure just enough to finish up the conversation. “I don’t think I can handle casual,” he says, and your heart just about leaps from your chest. He grins as you heave an over-dramatic sigh of relief.

“Thank fucking god,” you say, and before it’s even left your mouth, his arms are around you. He’s lifting you from the chair, you’re on the counter top, his hands are pulling at your hair and your hands are yanking his shirt over his head. Your mouths connect with an absurd need, as if they had not done the same only hours prior. His skin is so warm against yours as he rips the shirt from you, discarding it on the floor before yanking you from the counter, pressing hot kisses to your neck as you pull him towards your bedroom. You make it halfway down the hall before he grows impatient. He cages you to the wall with his large frame, arms on either side of you. You lean up and catch his lower lip in a biting kiss; he groans as he presses against you, removing one arm from the wall to scoop up one of your legs. You hitch it around him as he draws you closer, so close that you feel him pressing against you - and it’s incredible.  _ “Fuck, _ Trevor,” you gasp, bucking against him, wanting for friction. You decide your gasping and moving is enough to spur him onward - in a matter of seconds you’re in your bedroom, and he’s standing in front of your bed in his boxers. You shove and he lets himself go, falling backwards onto your bed, pushing back toward the headboard. You wiggle out of your jeans, bra, and panties and he just  _ watches, _ eyes moving over your body hungrily as you join him on the bed.

You crawl halfway up him before sitting up again and tugging at the band of his boxers. He lifts himself a bit as you pull them from him, tossing them off the bed. You can feel him watching you as you take him in hand, pulling him into your mouth. He leans back into the pillows as you find a rhythm, one arm draped over his eyes as the other tangles in your hair. You pick up your pace for no other reason than to hear his breathing hitch in his throat - which it does, a few times. You hear him breathe out your name on either a curse or a prayer before he pulls you, literally drags you up the bed, throwing you against the pillows. He’s leaning over you now, eyes scanning your face as you look up at him. He presses a series of kisses to your cheeks as you giggle, pulling him down towards you. He takes the hint, a hand dragging down your torso, fingers igniting a scorching path as they go. You gasp as he presses a finger into you, mouth on your neck as he sets to work on you. You can feel the red mark he’s going to leave on your neck forming, but you’re too awed by his handiwork to do anything about it. He presses in and out of you, palm pressing against your clit. You’re already panting and whining when he adds the second finger. You can feel him smirking against your neck as your muscles start to tighten around his fingers. With a few more movements you’re gone, back arching, head pushed back into the pillows, nails scraping against the sheets. When you come to he’s got those eyes on you again, same smirk you’d felt earlier still present.

“Trevor,” you half-moan,  _ “Please?” _

You don’t have to ask again. He presses into you, gently, watching as you adjust to his length. When you have he pulls out and pushes back in again, this time to the hilt, and you groan approvingly. You wrap your legs around his hips, guiding him as he begins thrusting into you more steadily. “You’re so fucking  _ pretty,” _ he states, pressing into you as deep as he can manage and holding for a moment to a chorus of swears and gasping moans coming unbidden from your mouth. You press your hands flat against your headboard, bucking up against him with increasingly force as he fucks each breath from you. You rip hard lines down his back as he picks up even more, catching him off guard when you push him over and straddle him, sliding him back into you without wasting a moment. He grunts as you crash down against him, head thrown back, hair tumbling down your back. He grips your hips so tightly that you feel his fingertips leaving bruises, uncaring, even happy for it. He fucks upwards, into you, delighting in your moans as they grow louder. He departs one hand from your side to press against your clit and you gasp audibly, whole body tensing so acutely that he has to catch his breath from the sensation it caused.  _ “Jesus,” _ he growls, watching your back arch much as it had before.  _ “Fuck.” _

You look down at him through lidded eyes, lip pressed between your teeth. You lean down, moving your hips in torturously slow circles. You press a lazy kiss to his jawline, smiling like the devil, watching as his brows furrow. You relent after a few moments and return upright, allowing him purchase enough to speed up. You rock your hips against his hand as you continue on; each movement is more desperate than the last, signalling your nearing end. He flips you both back over, positioning himself on his knees as he slams into you, one hand on the headboard for support.  _ “Trevor,”  _ you call breathlessly, tightening around him, eyes wide and mouth agape. He presses a kiss to your lips as he waits out your orgasm, still moving, dangerously close to his own. “Trevor, cum for me,” you say, regaining some measure of composure, moving your hips to pick up the rhythm. He grits his teeth and pulls himself from you after a beat. You take him in your hands, jerking him off onto your chest. He chokes out a strangled moan, an echo of your name, as he finishes. He collapses down next to you, reaching for a box of tissues on your bedside table and handing them to you. You wipe yourself off and stand, tossing them in a nearby waste basket before pulling him to stand with you on wobbly knees. You turn the water on in the shower down the hall, kissing him slowly as it warms, pulling both of you in when it’s suitable. You wash up together, handing off shampoo and soap, kisses and quiet laughter. You tumble back into bed after to toweling off, naked and tired, falling asleep in a contented tangle of blankets and limbs.

The last thing you think of before drifting off is him saying your name, and how it’s never sounded so good.


End file.
